


Ed Nygma's Enigma

by PeaceAndLongLife



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Literally no dialouge, M/M, Nygmobblepot, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 02, deep thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 16:36:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11444790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeaceAndLongLife/pseuds/PeaceAndLongLife
Summary: For the first time is Ed's life, he was puzzled; utterly stumped, and by his own doing. He found himself attracted to a man. But not just any man, no, The Penguin - Oswald Cobblepot.





	Ed Nygma's Enigma

**Author's Note:**

> This is just me divulging a headcannon of mine that Ed would tend to overthink/overanalyze everything, including his attraction to Oswald.

   It was a stray, mundane thought, passing swiftly through his sharp mind. It was the kind of thought that typically would have gone undetected, but for whatever reason, it hadn't.

    _I_ like  _him._

   For the first time is Ed's life, he was puzzled; utterly stumped, and by his own doing.

   Ed found himself attracted to a man. But not just any man, no, The Penguin-  _Oswald Cobblepot._

   He had never once been enticed by a male, or even curious for that matter -even though he was routinely propositioned by those of the same sex for whatever strange reason - Simply put, his preference had always laid exclusively with woman.

 _But_   _what had changed?_

   The question was equal parts intriguing and infuriating for Ed. It was an equation he desperately needed an answer to but lacked a formula or any applicable data.

   Ed drags a chair from his dining table into his bedroom, the legs screeching and scratching over the pristine floor. For once he didn't care, he had bigger, more important situations at hand, like analyzing his latest epiphany.

   Ed positions the chair before the foot of his bed, facing his sedated guest.   
  
_Yes, this would do perfectly._

He had so many questions racing through his mind that he felt dizzy. Perhaps he would try solving the simplest ones first, to clear and bring some resemblance of order back to his chaotic mind before attempting to tackle the more perplexing self-analytic inquires.

   Ed would start off with the basics.

    _Who?_

This one was easy. He was attracted to Oswald Cobblepot, or more commonly referred to as The Penguin. Gotham's underground kingpin, criminal overlord, and master manipulator. Next.

   _What?_

_What was it about him?_

   Ed leans forward into his chair, intensely focusing on his patient. He studies the man's facial features, sharp and rigid even in sleep. It was the face of a man who had been dealt a lifetime of hardship. Someone who had seen too much; experiences so harrowing that they burden him at all hours. Yet Oswald didn't wallow in self-pity or expect special favours to be bestowed upon him. No, he made his way up the criminal ranks through cunning schemes and elaborate manipulation, all without succumbing to the lazy, overused tactics of those who ruled before him. He earned his respect. It was this about Oswald that never seized to amaze Ed.

_When?_

_When did his simple admiration of hi_ _m_ _blossom into something much less innocent?_

Ever since Oswald was dubbed 'The Penguin' in the media, Ed had been closely following his endeavours, whether through the paper or the news, or even eavesdropping on Detective Gordon's hushed conversations at work. Ed was always the first to know about the latest underground developments. He had even devised an acceptable explanation just in case anyone were to question him on his strange fixation on the lethal stranger - No one ever did, but at least he was prepared. ' _It's for work_ ' Ed would tell them. ' _I am simply collecting crucial data_   _by observing the daily habits and mannerisms of known criminals. Eventually, with enough information I will be able to detect routines and accurately predict patterns of increased and decreased crime rate, thus aiding in the prevention and capture of said majour criminal_.'

   Of course, the real reason was that Ed wanted to be just like Oswald. He wanted to be in complete control, to have unwavering loyalty. To be free, to be  _feared_. Ed just wasn't sure when wanting to  _be_  Oswald had changed to wanting to be  _with_ him.

   Although, if he had to hypothesize the exact moment his platonic resolve began to slip through his fingers, it had to have been the moment Oswald collapsed in that quiet forest.

   Through all of Ed's research, his mind had subconsciously begun to paint Oswald as this perfect, ethereal being; impervious to lowly human facets. And then to see someone you've worshiped for so long so mortally wounded and raw with vibrant emotions...it was shocking. You don't realize how misplaced your perspective is until it's snapped back into reality.

   Oswald was just a regular person. 

    _Why?_

_Why did Ed want to be with him?_

   Companionship and intimacy were the two biggest factors that sprung to mind, but they weren't exclusive, Ed could find those two traits in just about anyone. No, Ed wanted to be with Oswald because he felt at ease around him. He didn't have to hide his sinister side or withhold any dirty little secrets because Oswald was the same as Ed. For once Ed felt normal; for once he wasn't the only misunderstood nerd. They could rule side by side, as equals. Together they'd leave a blazing trail of wicked destruction in their wake.

   It no longer mattered to Ed that Oswald was not a girl. He'd trade in soft curves for hard angles any day if it meant he could have Oswald underneath him for even just a minute. Ed wasn't attracted or not attracted to him because of his gender, he was attracted to him because he was  _Oswald_.

   And then there was Ed's more primal attraction towards Oswald. It was something he felt so rarely -the raw, uninhibited  _need_ \- but when he did, it had the capability to turn his entire life upside down, leaving him dizzy and gasping for breath.

   During the day the lust would loom bleakly over him like the deafening silence before a storm. And when night descended upon Gotham his lust would gradually suffocate him till his chest was tight and he could no longer form a coherent thought. It was at this time that all Ed's deepest darkest fantasies would play out in his mind -muddled with passion- but instead of a movie, it was a clip show of fleeting senses.

   Oswald's nails, digging into the pale flesh of his back. Oswald's crystal eyes, not leaving him, pupils blown wide. Oswald's breath, hot against his ear as he whispers nothing in particular. Oswald's cologne, too sweet for a man of such stature. Oswald's tongue pressed enthusiastically against his, a faint trace of a mint he'd had earlier.

   Oswald. Oswald.  _Oswald_.

   Ed was now lusting after a man he'd only known personally for a day and nothing had felt more right.

   It wasn't just the sex he craved. Ed wanted the romance. He wanted to pamper Oswald, to cook for him, to shower him with genuine affection. He wanted to take him on extravagant dates that he couldn't afford. Ed wanted to proudly parade him around the city, bragging, and warning every resident that The Penguin was officially taken and anyone with objections or ill intent towards Oswald would have to come through him first.

   Movement breaks Ed's chain of thoughts as Oswald begins to restlessly toss about before eventually settling on his uninjured side. His face is scrunched up in deep emotion and his calloused hands blindly reach out for something. He grabs hold of the sheets instead and seems to find a sense of solace in the action of clutching the sheets to his chest. How... _adorable._

   Oswald looked so small, even smaller than usual, both physically and emotionally, like a frail baby bird.

   Ed rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and looks at the clock hanging on the wall. It was too late, and he had work early in the morning. Ed glances backward at the hard couch that was doubling as an extra bed and then longingly at his real bed.

   His bed was far too large for only one person, -it had come with the apartment and he been too broke at the time to replace it, and too unbothered since- instead of its intended comfort, the space only left him with a tangible metaphorical reminder of his loneliness and how he was unwanted and destined to be unloved.

   But now, in an unexpected -but not unpleasant- turn of events, Ed no longer felt alone. His bed also just coincidentally happened to be occupied by another.

   Oswald shifts again and Ed watches as he rolls closer to the edge of the bed, as if taunting him to crawl in beside him.

   Ed was certainly tempted beyond comprehension, but there was also a part of him that held back on taking the offer. He'd never done anything of the like. The one time he had managed to take Kristen to bed, she had left immediately after, refraining from all unnecessary contact. Oswald couldn't be any more different on the matter.

   Oswald was an unintentionally tactile person. He'd always lean in close when spoken too, invested fully in the conversation; fingers briefly running down an arm in amusement, an empathetic hand resting comfortably on a shoulder, or a sharp elbow to the ribs to convey frustration.

   It was purely nurtured over nature. Oswald's relationship with his mother was one on the very opposite end of the spectrum of Edward's parental relationship.

   Even with the minimal communication they've had on the matter, Ed could confidently deduce that Oswald was bordering on codependency. He simply  _thrived_  on the praise and acknowledgment of others and even more so with reciprocated physical contact. To Oswald, a hug could mean the entire world.

   Ed didn't mind this particular quirk, in fact, he reveled in it. Oswald was the first person to genuinely initiate intimate contact with him. Sure, at first it was uncomfortable and strange -he had to constantly remind himself that Oswald was not trying to hurt him- because he had gone through the majority of his life severely touch-starved. But that initial ingrained fear subsided and before long he was subconsciously leaning into his gentle touch. It was always gentle as if Ed was the injured one and not the caretaker.

  Oswald coughs once suddenly, then spirals into an uncontrollable cough. It was dry and raspy by the sound of it; the kind that itched relentlessly. Without a second thought, Ed dives forward from his chair and onto the bed. Before his common sense had time to catch up with his movements he placed a strong hand on Oswald's bare back and began rubbing in slow, soothing circles.

   There were two more rounds of vigorous coughing before Oswald calmed down. He was still deep asleep from the sedatives, but his body was shaking from the over-exertion. Ed rolls on his side and peers over Oswald's shoulder to double check that there was a glass of water on the bedside table,  _just in case_.

  Ed crawls under the sheets and resumes stroking Oswald's back but with every silent minute that ticks past his slow palmed circles evolve further into fingertips ghosting intricate designs.

   There was only a measly foot between the two now. Back to chest. Edward's long legs were somewhat curled in towards his chest and Oswald's frame had settled into the steady, rhythmic up and down of his breathing.

   It was nice.

   Calm.

   Content. 

   Ed had never slept better.

**Author's Note:**

> I might add a second chapter to this...?
> 
> (If you have any prompts I'd GRACIOUSLY take them.  
> www.peaceandlonglife.tumblr.com)


End file.
